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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684589">Scribble #3</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraculouslyBlueWolf/pseuds/MiraculouslyBlueWolf'>MiraculouslyBlueWolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Scribbles (Ver. 1) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Forests, Roses, Triggers posted in the notes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraculouslyBlueWolf/pseuds/MiraculouslyBlueWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Scribble 3 of 8</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Scribbles (Ver. 1) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000512</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scribble #3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompts:</p><p>Rose</p><p>In a forest</p><p>I once asked</p><p> </p><p>Triggers: None</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I once asked someone what roses meant to them. They told me that a rose was just a flower. A tiny, insignificant piece of the universe. For a long time, that’s what I believed too; that roses were just plants that grew and died like everything else. </p><p>It wasn’t until one of my rare walks through the forest that that meaning changed. </p><p>Off the path a few steps, I noticed a pop of color against the usual brown and greens of the forest. I walked up to it, the details of the object coming into focus. It was a rose. The petals were a peachy color, fading from a pale pink at the center to a vibrant orange at the tips. </p><p>I admired the way the sunlight filtering through the leaves above hit the dewdrops, making them look like sparkling crystals against the petals. I leant down and picked it, being careful of thorns only to realize later that it had none. </p><p>I smiled to myself and began to walk home with my new treasure, too wrapped up in my own world to realize that another rose had sprouted in my rose’s place.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I kind of liked this one, even though it was kind of short. I'm proud of myself for the details on the rose.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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